


Psionic Glove of Death

by saint_troll



Series: Jack/Anything that moves... [4]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood, Warehouse 13
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 01:31:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saint_troll/pseuds/saint_troll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lattimer is retrieving an artifact and has a little run-in with Torchwood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Psionic Glove of Death

“Torch what now?” Pete snapped his glove against his wrist. Stepping forward he looked between the artifact and the man holding it. Where the hell was Myka?! This dude looked ready to bolt at any second. “Listen, man. Just hand it over... and I promise that no one else will get hurt.”

“And you can promise that?” 

Oh, ho, no. Pete didn’t like the smirk on the other guy’s face one bit. He knew that look. That look that totally said: Hey, you’re a total nutcase. Step a little closer and I’ll give you this awesome jacket that lets you hug yourself.

“Actually... yeah, I can.” Reaching into his cargo pants, he pulled out a large anti-static bag.

The guy looked him up and down but didn’t move. Shit. Pete really hated stand offs. He was more of an action man. This waiting crap was for the birds. Myka was so going to get a ration of shit for standing him up like this. She was supposed to be right behind him. 

“Do you even know what this is?”

Pfft! Duh. “Psionic Glove of Death much...?” Really. He opened his mouth to elaborate further when he noticed the change in the other man’s features. “I’m right, right?” Fisting pumping into the air, Pete let out a whoop before returning his attention to the matter at hand.

Across the room, the other guy’s eyebrows raised visibly. “What’s that?” He nodded towards the bag in Pete’s hand.

“Man, I’m really not good at the technical stuff.” He sighed in frustration. “Look. Like Artie says... we snag the artifact, we bag the artifact, we tag the artifact. All I know is... I put the big nasty death glove in the bag and it won’t kill anybody before we get it to the vault.”

“...Artie?” 

A smiled spread across the other man’s mouth. That was just creepy.

“Artie Weisfelt?”

Gaping like an idiot is probably not a good idea, but Pete really hadn’t been expecting that.

“You’re a Warehouse agent?” 

Nor that. Pete slipped into a defensive pose and slowly reached for his Tesla. Ready for a fight, he inhaled deeply. Bring it.

Setting the glove on the floor between them, the other guy gave Pete the once over. “I’m Jack. Jack Harkness.” He offered his hand in greeting.

“Not ringing any bells, dude.” Pete shifted on his feet. He dropped his gaze to the artifact for a brief second. “Just like that, you’re handing it over?”

“Unless I’m wrong, and I rarely am... Mrs. Frederic’s vault makes Torchwood’s look like a toybox.” Jack reached into his pocket for his own presumably non-lethal gloves; chuckling when Pete flinched at the movement. “Be careful out there...” He turned to leave.

“Wait!” Damn, he really hated doing this. But his gut said to trust the guy, it had since the beginning but he hadn’t been listening. And he really did need help what with the Myka still not getting with the showing up business.

“Hmm?”

Pete rolled his eyes and let out an embarrassed huff. He mumbled. “...can you help...”

“What?”

“Can you help me?” Giving Jack a pained expression, he continued slowly. “See, it’s pretty big...and...”

“I’ve heard that line before...” The other man winked at him. 

The hell? He didn’t just say what I thought he said... did he? Pete watched cautiously as Jack bent over and picked the glove back up then took a couple steps towards him. 

“You know, I have something else pretty big. Maybe you could return the favor?”

The anti-static bag zapped and sputtered in his hands as the glove slid in. Pete quickly sealed it and looked up at Jack’s face. Shit, and he’d always considered himself reasonably tall. This guy made him feel like a midget. Or maybe it was the flirting. It was flirting, right? With the eye gazing and what not? Right?

“Uh, um... see, yeah, I...uh.” Smooth, Lattimer. Smooth. It’s not like it was his fault though. The artifact seemed like a distant memory to Jack the way he was following Pete’s mouth as he spoke. Following his mouth. Oh. Oh, snap. Jinx would kill him if he found out he acted like a homophobic ass in this situation. Too bad he wasn’t here to get him out of it. God, Myka would know what to say. Damn it, where was she?. “... I really gotta get back to the warehouse with this.” He started to lick his lips but stopped. 

“Your partner’s still not here...” Jack stepped even closer. Pete swallowed loudly. “Want a ride?”

That’s it. Breathing really wasn’t necessary and neither was his tongue. He could get along without them. He could learn to communicate in a series of complex grunts. Grunting. Groaning. Moaning. Oh, man. His brain really wasn’t doing him any favors. Pete bit his lip then kicked himself mentally when Jack’s attentions refocused on his mouth. “... location’s top secret.” He tried.

“South Dakota, Univille... ringing any of those bells?” Jack flashed a smile and then shook a set of keys in Pete’s face. “C’mon. I promise not to bite... hard.”


End file.
